Time Is Running Out
by TheNightinGaleTurk
Summary: Something has happened to London. Zombies are roaming the streets and Sherlock sends a desperate text to John, hoping he hasn't been turned yet. John gets it in time but soon discovers what Sherlock was so worried about. Will the consulting detective have time to save his friend before it's too late for them both and London is in ruins? Johnlock/Slight MyStrade


Hi everybody, I'm sorry I've been gone for so long. School has started and you know how hard it is to write anything but college papers lately. Anyway, this is rated M for blood and guts. A little kiss but nothing more. Oh and language of course. Enjoy the zombies! =D

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John, I need to know where you are at this very moment. –SH

Lloyd's bank, why? –JW

Lloyd's bank? When did you- Never mind. Do you have a television there that can connect to a news broadcast? Has it come there yet? –SH

I don't understand, Sherlock. I'll ask the help desk when I get there. Wait a moment. –JW

NO! STOP! –SH

Anyone could be infected! Stay away from human contact. I'm on my way to pick you up. –SH

Sherlock, what in the hell are you talking about?! –JW

I'm serious, John. If it's only one thing you do your entire life, trust me this once. People are attacking each other. I'm borrowing a vehicle. Don't go outside and I'll be there soon. –SH

Sherlock… why is this place so quiet all of a sudden. –JW

It's there. RUN. Find a place to hide. I'm almost there. –SH

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John looked around the room from his phone. The room that before he'd looked down at his phone had been busy and alive with people was now silent and most of the people were gone. His head swiveled around the room before he slowly went toward the bathroom. Bathrooms had the hardest surfaces if he needed to defend himself from whatever was going on. Before he could make it completely to the bathroom, a scream ripped through the air from behind the bank's main desk and the remaining people in the room started running away screaming from something that he couldn't see from where he was.  
Without pausing to look until he was able to get into the bathroom, he peeked out of it to see the people who were with him in line before were now being attacked. The other people were bleeding from multiple wounds as they bit and clawed at the people on the floor. His eyes widened so much larger and he took his phone out, using the other hand to flick the lights out in the bathroom.

Sherlock why are people attacking each other! What do you mean?! –JW

I don't know, John. I don't know. Lestrade is trying to organize people. The whole city is going insane. People are eating each other. Stay out of harm's way. If anyone tries to attack you, aim for the head. –SH

Aim with that?! I'm not armed at all! –JW

Use what you bloody have then! I'm turning the corner. This may be the last time we speak so I will simply say that I love you. –SH

Sherlock tossed the phone in the back of the car he'd technically stolen as he saw the mob outside the Lloyd's building. He revved the engine and gunned it now he ran over whatever was blocking the door. He would not let anything stand in his way. Driving over enough of the humans drooling and moaning that he effectively blocked the entrance with a car, he climbed out of the side door of the car and closed it before searching for John. Blood splattered the carpet of the bank and there were a few people, or what were once people, milled around with skin or organs hanging from their lips.  
The anecdotes started popping up like wild fire. Easy to defend. Back exit. Army Doctor. Easy to Defend. Hard Surfaces. Water for long term. He looked toward the bathroom and ran for it. One of the things seemed to notice him and came running at him. The consulting detective stopped short and let the thing run past him, smacking into the wall beside him. He went toward the bathroom again like it was fifty meter dash.

John had taken a wrench from a toolbox that had been thankfully left in there by the janitor. The little window had things beating on it, trying to get into the bathroom. Trying to get to him. He heard something running toward the door and almost panicked in the dark. _"Zombies couldn't run could they?" _He thought and positioning himself near the door. The body hit the door and bounced off at first. He thanked God that locks were strong when the body hit the door again and whatever it was came in and slammed the door behind it. John slapped a hand over his mouth and moved back, hoping it couldn't smell him. He held the pipe out and it whispered, "John?"  
His knees almost gave out at hearing Sherlock's voice. "Sherlock!" He gasped out and he felt the taller immediately go to him. Sherlock wrapped his arms around him, "It's alright, I'm here." He looked around in the dark, before using his cellphone light to locate the back door. "We need to leave. Mycroft has a plane waiting for us." John rubbed his temples, "What in the bloody hell is going ON Sherlock?" He whispered and stopped him from going towards the door. "They are right outside." John offered when Sherlock looked at him with raised eyebrows.  
"That complicates things…" He went back to the original door and peeked out much like John had done earlier. "I told you. I don't know. This isn't… Isn't possible what's happening to these people. Unless…" He trailed off with John holding the pipe like it was a lifeline behind him. Sherlock shut the door and looked at him. "A virus. It's spreads through contact with these things. I doubt its air born because we would have been infected already." He stippled his hands in thought and John swallowed hearing something from the stalls. "Are we trapped?" The smaller asked hearing the movement again. Sherlock was too busy thinking to hear it. "No, we need to get to the roof."  
John chose that moment to panic as something grabbed his leg. He screeched and jumped nearly half a foot high and flung himself toward Sherlock. The taller took a gun out and shot the thing that had grabbed his flat-mate. Using the cellphone he got a closer look at it. "Did it bite you?" He asked seeing that the beast, once male, was missing its lower legs. "No-No." John whispered and Sherlock turned toward him. He took his by the sides of his head, "Calm down, you were in the Army. Being frightened will not get us out of here alive."  
The doctor nodded, "I never had to fight zombies in the Army…" He muttered before taking a deep breath. "Let's just get to the roof." Sherlock took his hand in his and poked his head out of the bathroom door again. "Thankfully this building has an elevator to the roof." Sherlock pulled John with him out of the door. "Stay close and quiet." One hand gripped John's, who was still shaking, and the other had a firm grip on his weapon. John stayed close as possible, noticing that many of the people that were with him had been completely eaten or had been dragged off with bloody trails left behind them. They stopped short at the elevator. Sherlock hit the button repeatedly, looking around the room. It was completely silent and eerie except for the moaning outside. There were hundreds of people pushing up against the glass of the building.  
"Sherlock… the glass… what if it breaks?" John whispered to the taller who was slack jawed at the sight. He cleared his throat. "Hopefully we won't be around when that happens." The elevator door pinged and he turned back toward it as he heard the first sound of cracking. The doors opened up and a half eaten woman fell out on top of Sherlock. The man almost jumped out of his skin but the woman wasn't alive or even undead. John got the thing off of Sherlock and helped him into the elevator, hitting the close button on the door as more cracking was heard. After the doors slid shut, the smaller almost broke the roof button.  
It was Sherlock turn to be scared. His eyes were momentarily dilated from the shock but John pressed himself to the taller's side. "Breathe, Sherlock. Breathe." He muttered and the other calmed considerable. "I'm perfectly fine, John. Fine." Clearing his throat again, he shifted his gaze to the blood pool they were standing in. "How are we going to get off the roof?" John asked him, trying to change the subject. Sherlock smirked down at him for a moment. "Though I find it ironic to say this, we are going to clearly have to jump." The smaller looked at him, "Not funny."  
Sherlock snorted, "I wasn't trying to be." The elevator door dinged again and this time Sherlock had the gun raised for any more surprises. They still hadn't let go of each other's hands. The door didn't open on the roof like he'd expected but to a darkened floor, with only one light blinking in the back. Moaning filled the room and they all rushed toward the new light. John kicked the closed door button when Sherlock threw them to the back of the elevator area. He shot the closest one and she fell, the door shutting as her hand tried to keep going. "This is not how I planned this day to go."  
John looked up at him before shaking his head, "I doubt anyone did." After a moment's pause and the stupid elevator music finally stopped playing, he looked at Sherlock again. "I love you too, by the way." The other nodded, "Good to know." John furrowed his brows at him and snorted, "You know, when someone is in this situation, they normally have a moment when they-!" His sentence was cut off by Sherlock's mouth covering his for a moment. "I know what normally happens, now shut up." Sherlock said leaning back up. The doors opened up and Sherlock walked the dumbfounded John off of it. "Well…" John muttered not really knowing how to handle what just happened so choosing to ignore it. For now at least.  
Sherlock looked over the edge just as the door to the staircase started being banged against. John swore at the sight of the door being beat to death. "Well, I've survived one fall. Shall we try it again?" The doctor looked at him with narrowed eyes, "I'm not even going to say what I wanted to just do to you for that comment." Sherlock chuckled with a smile before backing up, letting go of the others hand in the process and taking a flying leap to the other roof. He barely made it and rolled to safety. Sherlock came back and offered his arms to John. "Come on, we've got to get to a car below!"  
John stared at him for a moment, not having to do this before in his life. Even when the two had first met, they'd ran across rooftops but didn't have to jump across one that below had hundreds of zombies and sure death from the fall. He backed up, eyes locked with Sherlock's and ran toward the edge. He jumped across the space and didn't quite make it to the edge. His heart went into his throat as he started to drop. Sherlock reached out and snatched him in mid-fall and used his weight to pull them back on the roof together. "That went better than expected." He muttered rolling to a stop with John in his arms. "We'll 'borrow' another car and head to the airport."  
He was so relieved; John didn't argue with him and took the hand offered to help him up the next minute. "The fire escape." He said out of breath and pointed to the side of the roof that had a little ladder leading off the side of building. Sherlock nodded quickly and with a swish of his coat was going toward the metal contraption. He followed him over the side and they began to climb slowly down toward the parking-lot below. Many of the undead were already milling around and trying to eat car parts. "Shit…" John mumbled, "Now what?"  
Sherlock held up his gun with a raised eyebrow, "We find a car that is still in working order then we shoot whoever is near it at the time. Then leave. Simple, my dear Watson." John realized the gun he had was his, "You used my gun of all things? Do you know the sexual implications of that?" He was trying to make light of the situation, even if he was shaking. Sherlock simply shrugged, "One that I would gladly explore at a later date. If I had known that there would be a 'zombie' outbreak, I would have saved the bullets in my gun." Sherlock muttered and stepped out of their crutched position by a dumpster. "Go for the black sedan!"  
John immediately went for the car, side stepping out of the way of a few 'dead' people and going toward it more. The taller continued out, firing at the rare walker who came at John from the side until they reached the car. "Break the window." Sherlock ordered, firing another shot as more from the other building started coming toward them. John looked around for anything and finally swore, taking off his jumper and used it to protect his arm as he elbowed the window out. Adrenalin making him seem a lot stronger than he was. Sherlock aimed another well placed shot and glanced back at John, "Done? I don't have infinite ammo here."  
"Shut up!" He spat and reached in to the car, looking around to see if anything was coming up on him. His hand finally found the door lock and he hit it, swinging himself into the passenger seat. In one swift motion that would have been graceful if they weren't about to be killed, Sherlock was in the driver's seat. He tossed the gun to John who caught it. Sherlock reached into his pocket and pulled out a screwdriver. He jammed it into the ignition and broke the steering wheel lock. With that, he hit the gas pedal and roared away from the group of undead coming towards them.  
Sherlock took a moment to catch his breath and pulled his phone to glance at the hanger number of his brother's plan. Mycroft had already evacuated most of the people in the city who were still human and was planning an air strike. He read the newest message again, "Get out, Sherlock. You have a short amount of time left before London is ground zero. -MH" John saw the look on his face and he swallowed, "What?" His throat became dry. Sherlock answered, "We have less than fifteen minutes before we will be killed with everyone else." John's eyes widened as he saw people running in the streets who were bitten but not completely dead yet.  
They passed another street and John leaned over and stomped the break. "John, what in the hell do you think you are doing?!" Sherlock said, as John started to get out of the car. "Look damn it!" He pointed toward none other than Gregory Lestrade about to be surrounded by the undead. John fired toward one undead who was getting dangerously close. "Greg!" John shouted and Sherlock put the car into neutral to keep it running. The Detective Inspector turned toward them and almost crumbled, glad to see someone still alive. He ran toward them, sliding over the hood of a police car and going toward them. He threw himself into the back seat and Sherlock took off again soon as they were inside.  
Lestrade gasped, "Thank god!" He said and rubbed a bit of Donovan's blood off his face. "Are you hurt?" Sherlock snarled at him and John pointed the gun at him. He instantly raised his hands, "What the fuck!? No! Just a few bruises and scratches!" John lowered the gun, "Sorry, you turn into those things if you get bit." Greg stared at him for a moment, "You're serious?" Sherlock snorted, "Yes, Inspector, I doubt we'd joke about this." The eldest put his face in his hands. "This is insane." John nodded, "Agreed. We're going to a plane to get out of here. In less than fifteen minutes this whole place is going to be wiped off the map." Lestrade's eyes widened, "You stopped for me anyway."  
John nodded, "Just don't make us regret it, Greg." The man nodded repeatedly and Sherlock spun the wheel to avoid another car that almost hit them. He hit the gas pedal again and they left the streets of London that were full of the undead and went onto a side road toward the airport. "We're going to be close." Sherlock muttered not stopping to deal with the fence of the airport. They hit it, smashing it to pieces and slide into hanger fifteen. The rushed from the car to the armed guards standing outside the plane. Mycroft was waiting, "Good to see you brother, John… Gregory." He greeted them and Sherlock nodded, "Likewise for once, Mycroft." They shared a brief look before piling into the airplane and starting to take off.  
Greg and Mycroft shared a brief look of relief between each other but it was missed by Sherlock and John who were busy giving each other a once over to see if they were whole. The pilot warned to be a bumpy ride and they pulled out from the hanger. The plane took off after a few minutes and they sat in silence. "So what's going to happen to those people that survived?" Mycroft sighed, "They will be relocated once they have been decontaminated. Most likely to the United States. The rest will be… put out of their misery. There is no way possible that we can let this outbreak spread." Lestrade nodded to himself, "How did this happen… less than a day…" He shook his head rubbing his temples. Sherlock interjected, "I believe it was from the same science facility that John and I investigated." Mycroft nodded, "Unfortunately, yes. The government didn't learn not to disturb nature the last time."  
John sighed leaning back in his chair as the plane tilted over the ocean. In the distance London was alight with flames. "I'm glad is in Germany on vacation with Molly…" He trailed off before looking back at the three men around him. Mycroft looking out at the city with an almost haunted look in his eyes, Greg was looking at him and Sherlock had his hands stippled again in front of his face. "So… it's over?" He asked, feeling like a child who needed reassurance. "No… I doubt this will be the last that we see of this." Mycroft muttered. Sherlock nodded slowly, "This indeed, is only the beginning."

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Well! That's all she wrote! What do ya'll think? REVIEWWWWWW~ *says in opera voice*


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